You and I
by ahtlolevad72
Summary: Quick little one shots. Established Tiva family. I will gladly take prompts.
1. Bad Hair Day

Author's Note: I know! I know! You've heard it a million times Tony and Ziva have a child and name her Tali. I know some people don't like the fact that their child is named after a dead relative. Personally I think it's totally possible that Tali would be the name of their kid. It's a beautiful name and a nice tribute to Ziva's sister. Contrarily I think it's ridiculous that they would name their child Kate. Would you really name your daughter after you're old flame who was killed by your wife's brother? Yeah I don't think so. It's weird. I'll try to make this as original as possible for you guys! Title credit goes to Ingrid Michaelson's song. Check it out. It's been stuck in my head all day.

"Tony! TONY!"

"Mmmmmm… what?" Tony opened his tired eyes to a flustered looking Ziva.

"Tony I need you to get Tali ready. Gibbs called and I haven't even showered." His exasperated wife was rapidly moving her hands to emphasize her point.

"I got it" He answered, waving his hand at her in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture.

"Thank You." she breathed gathering up her strewn outfit and heading off to the bathroom. Slowly Tony dragged his tired body out of bed and stretched out with various grunts and sighs. He stood up gingerly and shuffled off towards his daughter's room just as he heard the shower water begin to run.

"Tali." He called softly into the dark room at the end of the hallway. His daughter's new favorite form of amusement was the game hide-and-seek. Tony's call was met with a bursting fit of giggles from a lump of bedcovers in the corner. Pretending not to hear her, he sighed loudly. "I wonder where Tali could be. I hope she hasn't disappeared." Another fit of muffled giggles followed. "Gotcha!" Tony yelled yanking the covers off. A pajama clad toddler rolled out from the corner laughing hysterically. Scooping her up Tony couldn't help but smile.

After a few minutes of wrestling with his 3-year-old, Tony had Tali dressed, but her dirty blond locks were a mess. The rolling on the carpet and the tussling with footsie pajamas had left Tali's hair a static nightmare. Strands clung to her face and straight up in the air. Smoothing it as best he could Tony began to struggle with the hair ties. Tali whined as Tony tugged a little too hard working feverishly to put his daughter's hair into successful pig tails. After a few tries he finally made the two sides somewhat even and resigning that he should quit while he was ahead, Tony carried his daughter out to the kitchen for some breakfast.

A bowl of cheerios later a wet-haired Ziva emerged from the bedroom pink-faced and fully dressed. She was drying her hair hastily with a towel. Looking up Ziva stopped what she was doing and burst out laughing.

"What have you done to our daughter's hair?"


	2. Hebrew Lullaby

This is Tony's favorite part. When the case is over and he's just put Tali in bed. When he is lounging on the coach, shoes off, feet on the coffee table and Ziva is stretched out with her feet on his lap. She's reading a book, in a language Tony cannot pretend to understand.

Studying the title for a minute he reasons it's probably Farsi. Her brows are wrinkled in deep concentration; she looks up at him watching her and smiles self- consciously.

"What?"

"You are an astoundingly beautiful woman, Ziva David." She rolls her eyes at him in exasperation but gives herself away when her mouth twitches into a genuine smile. Ziva wriggles her feet.

"Rub them." She orders trying to cover up the earlier softness.

"Bossy aren't we?" He counters taking her feet in his hands. She sighs contentedly and returns to her book. Still rubbing her feet with one hand Tony reaches for the TV remote. With a click the loud sounds of American Idol pervade through the apartment. Ziva's head shoots up from her book.

"Turn that down." She hisses "You'll wake her up." Frantically Tony hits the volume button. Once the sound is a dim rumble he and Ziva sit in expectant silence, waiting for the inevitable call.

Silence.

Ziva sighs in relief. "Oh thank g-" Her words are cut off by a "Mom!" coming from the bedroom. Ziva groans. Tony shoots her his best apologetic look as she reluctantly gets up from the couch and disappears into the hallway.

Taking his moment Tony grabs her foreign book and begins to inspect it. He turns it around a few times, trying to decipher the complicated lettering. Holding his finger in Ziva's place he flips through the pages. No pictures. Tony sets it down again. He gives a huff and stares back at the TV screen only to be greeted with what appears to be a tampon commercial.

Exasperated, Tony pushes himself up from the couch and heads off to see if Ziva has made any progress on getting Tali to sleep. However, before Tony's hand reaches the handle of the door his ears are greeted with a glorious sound.

"Laila Tov

Hashkiveinu"

Ziva is singing in thick exotic-sounding Hebrew.

"Shchav Bni

Noumi Noumi

Rozhinkes Mit Mandlen

Or Zurua

Ein K'elokeinu

Yankele

Bim Bam

Donna Donna

Durme, Durme

L'yla L'yla

Eli Eli

B'yado

Mah Yafeh Hayom

Ben Katan

Mi Yiddishe Mama"

"Goodnight Tataleh" She whispers. As the door opens Tony swiftly grabs her arm and draws her close to him.

"What are you doing?" she whispers. He kisses her softly in response.

"Did I ever mention to you that hearing you speak Hebrew is an incredible turn on?"


	3. Thanksgiving Part 1

_Authors Note: I need prompts. I have a few ideas, but I want to know what you guys want to read. I'm trying to make this like a happy little haven during hiatus for you guys to read. So please any ideas ANY! I think I may do a part two to this chapter. If you hate the idea or love the idea tell me. There have been a lot of follows, but not many comments. Please critique me!_

Tony trudged up the steps to the apartment carrying bags of "essentials" for Thanksgiving. Ziva was frantic. Having offered to host Thanksgiving this year, she was in charge of doing most of the cooking due to Tony's complete lack of culinary skills. Never having hosted a Thanksgiving before, she was as nervous as Tony had ever seen her.

The elevator door opened with a happy "ping" and Tony slipped inside arms aching from the weight of wine, paper plates, and yams which Ziva was furious Tony had forgotten on his first trip. He hummed a little on the ride up glad about their rare day off.

Getting off the elevator Tony was greeted with a delicious smell wafting down the hallway. He sniffed the air hopefully. Ziva had been hard at work while he was at the store.

After a minute or two of wrestling with his bags he was able to get out his key and awkwardly get himself through the door frame, but stopped slightly stunned as he entered the apartment. It was spotless with not a book out of place. There were little turkey decorations hanging from the ceiling and the smell of roasted turkey filled the small apartment.

"It smells great Ziva" he called still moving slowly for fear of dropping the grocery bags.

"Did you bring my Yams" Ziva replied the stress evident in her voice.

"How could I forget?" He answered smoothly entering the kitchen and setting his bags down on the counter with a relieved sigh. Ziva's yoga pants were covered in flour and her messy bun had a bit of butter running through one of the strands. She was stirring a bowl of something that looked doughy and there was a pot of furiously boiling water sending steam throughout the kitchen.

"What do you need me to do?" Tony questioned hoping against hope that she'd say nothing and he could lounge on the couch watching the game.

Instead she looked relieved and thrust the bowl at him. "Will you please stir this? I need to mash potatoes." Tony looked longingly towards the TV for a second, but glancing back at his obviously panicking wife he sat himself down by the table and stirred dutifully. The steaming pot on the stove turned out to be potatoes. After draining it, Ziva sunk down in the chair next to him mashing them.

"You know what this reminds me of." Tony started.

"A movie I suppose." She teased a smile on her lips.

"A Christmas Story actually. The scene where Ralphie's mother cooks the Christmas dinner, but it gets ruined when the dogs from next door eat the turkey." Ziva gave him a puzzled look.

"This is Thanksgiving not Christmas. Do you have turkey at Christmas as well?"

"Sometimes, it depends."

She groaned. "I cannot make sense of these American traditions!"

"It'll be fine Ziva. The team doesn't care what you make. They know this is your first time cooking Thanksgiving dinner." Ziva brushed the hair out of her face and nodded, still unconvinced.

"Can you hand me that?" She asked, gesturing towards the bowl in Tony's arms. Sometime during the conversation he had stopped stirring as he was directed.

"I'll mash. You stir Chef Ziva" He said handing her his bowl.

"Actually will you go get Tali ready? She's napping and they will be here in a few hours."

"Of course" He reassured her and after kissing Ziva quickly on the lips Tony headed off to wake his daughter.


End file.
